In a dimly lit room, a tired-looking young man was asleep.
The curtain, half-drawn, let in a pale morning light. The room was simple. Too simple for someone living in one of the most prestigious academies in Europe.
Then—
Ding. Ding. Ding.
The alarm vibrated on the bedside table.
6:00 AM.
The time Ymir was supposed to wake up.
He didn't move.
The alarm kept ringing, steady, almost irritating. Then, with a slow motion, Ymir reached out… and knocked it off the table.
The dull sound of plastic hitting the floor echoed softly in the room.
Silence.
A few seconds passed.
Then he opened his eyes.
"…late."
His voice was low, still heavy with sleep. He stared at the ceiling for a moment without moving. His body felt heavy. Not just tired.
Exhausted.
"…great."
He finally sat up, running a hand through his black hair, slightly messy, falling almost to his shoulders. His amber eyes, still marked by fatigue, slowly scanned the room.
His gaze drifted toward the alarm on the floor.
"…don't remember pushing it."
A brief silence.
He looked away.
Not now.
Ymir got up quickly and grabbed his uniform. Every movement was precise, almost automatic. He stood at around 1.78 meters, with a lean but athletic build. His light brown skin, slightly marked by short nights, gave him a discreet, almost unremarkable presence.
Someone easy to overlook.
Perfect.
But his mind wasn't fully awake yet.
Fragments.
Blurred memories.
A dark corridor. Voices. Laughter.
"…hey, mentalist."
A hit.
Ymir froze mid-motion. His fingers tightened slightly around his shirt.
"…damn."
The memory came back, clearer. Not entirely. But enough.
There were three of them. Like usual. Not the strongest, but enough to be a problem.
He hadn't wanted to respond. Like always.
But this time… it had escalated faster.
A sudden movement. A shove.
And then—
A sound.
Something that shouldn't have happened.
Ymir frowned slightly.
"…did I lose control?"
Silence.
He finished getting dressed faster than usual.
In front of the mirror, he paused for a second. His reflection showed something simple: a closed expression, calm features, almost neutral. Nothing that suggested any kind of danger.
Exactly what he wanted.
"…as long as it stays that way."
He grabbed his bag and stepped out.
The dormitory corridors were already lively. Groups were talking, others heading toward training areas.
No one paid attention to him.
Or rather… no one important.
Ymir went down the stairs without rushing. His mind was already elsewhere.
"…if I really used something else…"
He didn't like that idea.
Not at all.
Because it meant one simple thing: something had gone beyond his control.
And in this academy… control was everything.
The training buildings stretched across several zones, each dedicated to a specific type of ability.
Mentalists. Controllers. Reinforcers. Elementalists. Transformers.
Five major categories, born from a genetic evolution still not fully understood. Today, being an Imperium was no longer an anomaly.
It was a structured norm.
Regulated.
Optimized.
But it had also reshaped the world. Power no longer came only from money.
It came from the body.
From the mind.
From what each individual was capable of doing.
Ymir entered the building reserved for mentalists.
The atmosphere was different. Quieter. More restrained. But not necessarily more pleasant.
Some heads turned toward him.
Not all.
But enough.
— He's here.
— You saw his results yesterday?
— Level 1…
A faint, muffled laugh.
Ymir didn't react. He walked to his seat and sat down.
Another mentalist next to him glanced at him briefly, then looked away.
Even here.
No need to say more.
The teacher entered a few moments later.
— Today, we continue with cognitive projection exercises.
A few quiet sighs spread across the room.
Ymir lowered his gaze to the table, calm on the surface.
But in his mind—
"…if it really was yesterday…"
His focus drifted—not to the lesson, but to a detail. The memory. The exact moment.
When one of them grabbed him.
When he reacted.
And more importantly—
What he didn't feel.
No concentration. No effort.
Just—
A movement.
Ymir stiffened slightly.
"…that's not good."
If he hadn't felt the activation, then it wasn't intentional.
And if it wasn't intentional…
Then it could happen again.
The door suddenly opened.
Two adults walked in. Different uniforms. More rigid.
The teacher stopped.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
— Ymir.
No surprise in the voice.
As if it had been expected.
Ymir slightly raised his eyes.
"…so it already reached this point."
He stood up without arguing.
All eyes were on him.
Some curious.
Others… satisfied.
Ymir walked past the rows, calm as always.
But this time—
He knew.
This wasn't just a routine check.
It was a consequence.
And this time…
He had no one to blame but himself.